


You Don't Know What You Got 'Til It's Gone

by CrossMyDNA



Series: All Or Nothing [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottoming from the Top, Drunk Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Riding, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossMyDNA/pseuds/CrossMyDNA
Summary: "Keith has sucked a lot of dick in his life, but damn, Lance's has to be the nicest." Keith and Lance have a Friends With Benefits relationship. But will that be enough?





	

Lance's cock is a godsend. Keith's struggling to catch his breath as each slow, deep thrust pushes him increasingly closer to the wall. He feels hot all over—like they've been fucking for hours, but it can't have been more than 20 minutes.

Keith pants into Lance's shoulder, biting down ever so slightly at one particularly strong thrust that makes his toes curl. Lance always seems to know how to do that. Make Keith's entire body shudder and quake when he brushes against his prostate or nips at that one spot at the base of his neck.

He's close. Keith's dick is pressed against Lance's taut stomach as he moves above him, and the friction is maddening. He just need a little more and—

—and Lance stops.

Just. Stops. And Keith could honestly kill him. He refuses to acknowledge that the desperate whine he hears actually came out of _his_ mouth, but it did. Keith blinks open his eyes and looks up to meet Lance's, inches away from his and so, so bright, even in the dim light.

One of Lance's hands traces up along Keith's waist, across his chest and comes to rest on his cheek. Keith doesn't lean into it, but he wants to and he doesn't know why. Lance leans down and kisses the corner of his mouth, then brushes a few damp strands of hair away from Keith's forehead with the tips of his fingers.

Lance smiles, just the barest curve of his lip to one side, but he looks—happy. It's too intimate.

Keith screws his eyes shut, hooks one leg around Lance's low back and presses the other flat into the mattress to push up and flip them over. The smooth, cool sheets slide off almost completely. It helps.

Keith doesn't meet his eyes again, just leans back, braces himself on Lance's strong thighs, and sets a determined pace. This. This is what he needed. Hard and fast, not soft and sweet. The past few times they've hooked up, Lance has tried to take it in the other direction, but Keith just can't.

Strong hands wrap around his hips as he rises up almost completely and slams himself back down. He doesn't bruise easily, but he'd be wiling to bet he'll have a few spots on the back of his thighs where they collide with Lance's sharp hip bones.

The new angle makes Keith's jaw drop. The stretch is just right and his thighs are starting to burn with the effort and it's _perfect_. A pleasant heat unfurls in his stomach and radiates all over. He's about to jerk himself off when one of Lance's hands—softer than they have any right to be—grips him and in less than half a dozen firm strokes Keith sees stars and comes in quick bursts onto Lance’s hand and stomach.

He rocks through his orgasm, hips twitching and breath coming out in one long, low huff. He stills before slipping off Lance's still-hard dick with less grace than he really should. Keith peels the condom off and throws it haphazardly on the floor—which, yeah, is gross, and he knows one of them needs to pick it up before Hunk comes back in the morning, but he really has more important things to be doing right now. He slides down the bed and swallows Lance down. The gasp from above urges him on, and he strokes the base while swirling his tongue along the head and the delicious vein running up the side.

Because, hello, godsend cock. Keith has sucked a lot of dick in his life, but _damn_ , Lance's has to be the nicest. The perfect combination of length and girth with a tangy though not unpleasant taste. He presses Lance's hips to the bed to stop them from hitching up and choking him, and at Lance's stuttered, " _Keith– I'm_ _—_ _"_ he comes. He swallows what he can and wipes the back of his mouth and Lance's stomach with a corner of the sheet bunched up beside them.

Keith wastes no time in sliding off the bed, dropping down the two or so feet to the cold floor, and beginning to sort through their clothes. He glances back at Lance a minute later, with one arm already in his black t-shirt, and sees Lance hasn't moved except to cover his eyes with the crook of his elbow. 

They don't say anything. The silence is almost unnerving. Lance never shuts up on a good day, and on a bad day still manages to get on Keith's nerves. Even after they fuck he usually has some witty comment or joke about having the life sucked out of him through his dick.

But. Nothing.

Keith's pulling on his boots by the time Lance sits up in his bed, crossing his legs pretzel style and pulling the rumpled sheets up to cover himself from the waist down. Keith is just about to turn around and head out with a, ‘See you soon,’ when he hears Lance speak.

"No more, Keith."

He can barely hear him with how low he's speaking. But, that's not why he asks, "What?"

Lance clears his throat and clarifies. "We can't do this anymore."

Okay. Keith's confused now. "Why not?"

Lance dips his head and stares down into his lap for a few seconds before speaking again.

"I just want… more."

“More… sex? We fuck at least twice a week. Our schedules barely even allow that.”

“No, not more sex.”

“More space, then? If you want to cool off for a bit until finals are over that’s fine.”

Keith doesn’t miss Lance’s wince when he offers it. What the hell? It’s a valid offer.

“That’s not it. I don’t _just_ want sex, okay?”

“So, what, do we need to spice things up or some shit? You always struck me as a vanilla guy.”

“Vanilla isn’t the problem.” He pauses to rub at his temples. “Look–”

“It wasn’t bad, was it?” Keith interjects. He almost cringes at how much that sounded like _I wasn’t bad, was I?_

“No, no—it was great. Like always. I mean, I don’t have anyone to compare it to, but that’s not the point. I just—”

“Wait. You mean you— when we— you were a—” Keith can’t make himself say it. They’re both in their third year of college, how the hell hadn’t he—Man.

Keith remembers their first fuck. It was only four-ish months ago. Shiro was hosting his annual first-weekend-of-the-year party, and someone had brought what had to have been 10 gallons of jungle juice. Needless to say, they were both _just_ drunk enough by the time they left and wandered back to Keith’s room to think making out was a good idea. One kiss turned into two, into three, into twenty, and by then, roaming hands turned into a delicious grind turned into uncoordinated but, let’s be honest, fucking mind-blowing sex. And _that_ was Lance’s first time? _Jesus_.

Lance sighs. “A virgin, yeah. But it didn’t matter, okay?”

He finally looks up and Keith wonders if someone died in the last five minutes because he has never seen Lance so—so _somber_.

He continues in a soft voice that’s so unlike him it makes Keith’s heart hurt, “But I want it to, now.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Keith doesn’t know how to respond, so he waits, still standing halfway between the door and the foot of the bed, suddenly wishing he hadn’t taken so long to lace up his boots.

Lance sighs again, and Keith decides he hates the sound coming from him.

“You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want that, so I’m not gonna try anymore.” He takes a deep breath, while Keith holds his.

It makes sense. The increasingly gentle touches, the soft smiles Keith knows for a fact Lance doesn’t use on any of their other friends, the promises to set an extra alarm if he stayed the night. Did this kind of thing actually happen in real life? Keith could swear it was something that only happened to quirky straight people in rom-coms.

“So please, just. Don’t come by again, okay?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. “Not for this.”

Keith had a grand total of about 20 seconds to prepare himself for that, and it wasn’t enough. He had assumed their—what? Friends With Benefitship? would end eventually, he just hadn’t thought it would be this soon. His pulse is hammering in his ears, his chest constricts and his fingers and toes grow cold and why, why is he feeling like this? He’s ended things with fuck buddies before and even been dumped a time or two but this… this is new. And it _hurts_.

“Lance, I…” he trails off, unsure of what to say for maybe the third time in his life.

“Don’t, Keith.”

There’s no humor in his voice or in his eyes. Keith glances down and sees the discarded condom still lying amid Lance’s clothes and. Yeah. This feels less like a _goodbye_ and more like an _I’m protecting myself from getting hurt, and I need you to get the fuck away from me and not come back._

He turns and leaves, dazedly wondering how his motions still feel so fluid despite the subtle shaking he can feel settling into his shoulders and arms. The doorknob feels much colder than Lance’s skin had just minutes ago.

  


* * *

  


Pidge texts him the next night, asking if he knows what’s up with Lance. Apparently he skipped both of his classes that morning _and_ their customary week-before-finals Chipotle binge.

Keith feels like an ass, and not just because his friend is hurting.

  


* * *

  


Finals come and pass without fanfare. When the holidays creep up, Keith stays on campus while the majority of students go home. He picks up more hours at Barnes & Noble and volunteers at the Humane Society down the street on his days off. It doesn’t help.

  


* * *

  


Students trickle back on campus at the end of January. By mid-February, it’s officially been the longest Keith has gone without sleeping with anyone since he lost his V-card at 17.

But he misses it. He misses _Lance_ and their easy friendship and comfortable arguments. Misses the way his eyes light up when he talks about his family. Or the way he used to look at Keith like he put the stars in the sky.

  


* * *

  


Four days after Valentine’s day, Keith caves. He knows Lance is working at the school’s fitness center right now, and it’s barely 9 AM on a Saturday, so it shouldn’t be busy.

He bunches his hands in his hoodie pocket and tells himself he’s shivering because of the crisp air and gentle snow falling.

As expected, Lance is at the front desk when he walks in, leaning back in his chair with one leg propped up on the desk. He looks calm, tapping away at his phone. They haven’t spoken much since last semester, only a few sparse texts and quiet meals with Hunk and Pidge.

“Hey.”

Lance looks up from his phone, gives Keith what looks like a strained smile.

“Hi. You checking in?”

Keith shakes his head.

“No. I, uh.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow. Fuck, why is this so hard?

“What time does your shift end?”

“Eleven-thirty. Why?”

“Um.” Keith can feels his ears burning. He’s glad he didn’t put his hair up today.

“Do you wanna grab lunch after?” He knows it comes out in a rush, but he’s kind of amazed it came out at all, so he’ll count that as a win.

“I’m already meeting up with Pidge at Panera, but you can join if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s—I’m good. Dinner, then?” Fuck, he’s ruining this.

“Sure. The caf okay?”

Keith shifts his weight onto his other leg, feeling uncomfortable. Lance is way better at reading people and social cues than he is, and he’s not getting what Keith’s trying to say. But god, he’s a grown-ass man, why can’t he just ask his friend on a stupid date?

“I was thinking more along the lines of Arusia.”

Lance’s eyebrows shoot up.

“That fancy-ass Italian place? I can’t afford that, man.”

“Well, usually the person who asks pays, so…”

Lance gapes at him, and Keith wishes he could shrink inside his hoodie completely.

“Are you… asking me out?”

Okay. Band-Aid approach it is. “Yeah. If—if you want to.”

Lance studies him for a minute.

“Do they have garlic knots?”

Keith balks and barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s borderline having an anxiety attack here and Lance is asking about appetizers.

“I think so?”

“Then yes.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“I can say no if you want.”

Keith feels his cheeks redden.

“No! No, that’s okay. I… kind of thought you _would_ say no, after—you know. How I treated you.”

“So why ask now?”

Keith rubs the back of his neck. He feels stupid, but he needs Lance to know he means this.

“I’m not good with relationships. I always mess them up one way or another, so it’s always been easier just to sleep with people and let that be it. But…” he pauses to collect his thoughts. “But we’ve known each other for so long that it kind of feels like we're already halfway there. And you’re infuriating and annoying and I realized I hate not being around you.”

Lance lets an easy smile rest on his face, and _god_ , Keith missed seeing it.

“Me too.”

Keith lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Lance sits up and leans over the counter to cup Keith’s face in his hands, and his eyes are practically twinkling and _Jesus_ he is so screwed.

Keith tilts his head down so they’re touching foreheads and Lance is radiating warmth and yeah, he could get used to this cheesy— _intimate_ —stuff.

“We’re getting fried mozzarella, too,” Lance whispers.

Keith huffs out a laugh and leans in the last inch to connect his lips to Lance’s.

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO not a writer, lmao. But I kept thinking about this and wanted to turn it into a short drabble. There's like a 0.1% chance I'll write anything else.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr [@crossmydna](http://crossmydna.tumblr.com) if you want to follow me!
> 
> EDIT: I'm totally overwhelmed by the response this has gotten! I'll be posting a second part as a follow-up about these dorks on a fancy-ass date. It will be linked here but can be read as a stand alone as well.


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